


Rocket

by orphan_account



Series: Teacher Hans and Student Anna [1]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Light Bondage, Riding, Teacher-Student Relationship, don't even look at me, yes you read that right Anna is Hans's domme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Anna approached Hans one evening, four thick scarves in one hand and a ball gag in the other, and purred, 'Daddy, I’m going to ride you,' Hans found her hard to refuse."</p>
<p>(Could be seen as a continuation of "Blow"; teacher Hans and student Anna, etc., etc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocket

When Anna approached Hans one evening, four thick scarves in one hand and a ball gag in the other, and purred, “Daddy, I’m going to ride you,” Hans found her hard to refuse. Not that he could refuse—he may have been “Daddy”, but Anna made a habit of wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing him to carry her, or tying him up and teasing him with wax and a feather, and she had very loudly proclaimed her role as his Domme. She saved him from professing himself a sub at all.

Still, he had to give a little fight. “And how do you think you’re going to do that?” He gestured to the piles of paperwork on his desk, essays to grade, papers to review. Anna just smiled and took his hand, tugging him to standing.

“Easy,” she said. “You don’t have a choice. I’m afraid I’m in charge every evening, after hmm, seven, was it?”

He shivered at the reminder of their contract—willfully drawn, after he feigned protest one too many times, and Anna grew fearful of pushing him. Well, she was right, the clock had chimed seven not five minutes ago.

“Then I suppose I’m yours, Mistress.”

“That’s right, Daddy,” she hummed, leading them to his bedroom. Their bedroom, really, but there were only so many liberties a foreign princess could take, and moving into her college professor’s apartment was not an option.

When they reached the bedroom, she grabbed him by his tie and yanked, hard. He spluttered and marveled at the bulge growing in his pants, straining his boxers already.

“Strip, Daddy,” she whispered, and he could only obey. First came the tie, already loosened. Then, his reading glasses, lain on the nightstand; his button-up shirt which she usually delighted in tearing apart, but now she was busy tying the scarves around each bedpost; his slacks; and, aware of her hungry gaze, he dropped his boxers.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at her—still in a tiny green day dress and white kitten heels, those had to go. She stuck out her tongue at him, then turned back to the bed, arranging and rearranging the scarves until she was sure they wouldn’t slip from the bedposts. She straightened and began fiddling with the ball gag and its key, her back still to him, ignoring him until he broke, as he always did. His knees shook for a moment, and he debated remaining strong, refusing to submit—but he knew better than to deny himself what he’d always wanted. He knelt beside her and waited for her attention.

Finally, she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. He fought back a moan.

“Do you want to know what I have in mind for you tonight?” She turned to him and met his eyes, and his shoulders slumped in relief, glad to be under her gaze, glad to be with her at all. He nodded in response to her question, not trusting himself to speak.

He shivered when she tightened her grip in his hair, pulled him to standing, and then pushed him back onto the bed. He scrambled into position, spreading his limbs and finding the scarves. She gave him a swat on the thigh for his obedience.

“I’m going to tie you to this bed,” she said, “and I’m going to gag you with this,” she held up the ball gag, and he scowled, “and I’m going to ride you until I come. And maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you fuck me until you come.” She began tying his wrists and ankles to the bedposts, smiling. “ _Only_ if you’re good. You can moan however much you want, but no cursing, not even with the gag. You always fight me; this time, you can’t.”

Having secured his limbs, she crawledonto their bed, her dress slipping over her hips and up her back—oh, God, she wasn’t wearing panties, how long had she—? His shock was interrupted by a warning tap on his cheek; he automatically opened his mouth as wide as he could, and she fit the ball gag between his teeth, then locked the strap behind his head. He felt her breasts pressed against him as she leaned across to dig in the nightstand, and was suddenly glad for the scarves, keeping him from shaking with the need to touch her, although he wasn’t allowed.

Having found a condom and a bottle of lube, Anna settled back and straddled his hips. He pulled against his restraints and moaned as she pressed herself, wet already, against his cock. She grinded against him, tsking, “Oh, no, Daddy, you’re not off to a good start.” She lifted her hips, and he gasped at the absence, his hips straining as much as they could. “This is for _me_ —you don’t get to fuck me. Not yet.”

He nodded vehemently, a silent promise to remain still, however much it tore him apart. She grinned and tore open the condom packet, and eased the condom onto his cock with her _mouth,_ oh, God, so easy to thrust into, it’s right _there_ —

He whined but kept his hips still.  She rewarded him with a kiss on the tip of his cock, then settled back on his lap. She took the lube bottle and squirted some onto her hand, then smeared it over his cock, her little hand making a tight hole to fuck into if only he were allowed—

“Good, Daddy, that’s right,” she murmured, and he shivered. Obedience had its virtues; pleasuring her was more delicious than being pleasured, tied a knot of satisfaction in his gut.

He watched with lidded eyes as she lifted her hips, positioned him _right_ at her lips, and lowered herself onto him, slowly, _slowly_ , her eyes fluttering and her mouth open as she bore down, until every inch was inside. He let out a low moan, trying his hardest to keep himself still, to be a good servant, as she began to rock softly. She was so _tight_ , he could feel her walls clamping around him as she moved—he wanted, needed to fuck, but he was hers—she seemed perfectly content with her rhythm, carefully building friction until she neared the edge, sometimes stopping and letting tension wrack her body before starting up again.

He strained forward, moving his arms and keeping his hips steady, to reach for a kiss. A light blush swallowing her cheeks, she considered his silent plea, fingers tapping on his chest. He whined as she slowed her gentle rocks until she stopped completely, then leaned forward.

“Tell me, Daddy,” she said, “what do you want more? Grunt once for a kiss, twice for, well.” She demonstrated, lifting herself and fucking down sharply; he groaned, near insensible, and grunted twice. “Alrighty then.”

She rode him harder—but no faster, drawing out the moment before the drop until his thighs shook. He let out a cry when she dug her nails into his chest and dragged them down, driving him crazy, his head buzzing with bees, a mix of frustration and relief and love—his tongue was heavy with leaden words, things he ached to scream and shout but couldn’t, with the ball gag stretching his jaw apart.

She noticed his growing frustration and smiled as she sped up for a few strokes—he all but shouted—and then slowed down, unbearably slow, a tease if he ever saw one. “Do you know what you’re good for, Daddy?” she said. He shook his head. “You’re good for your cock, and even that belongs to me. Do you understand?” She rocked her hips, ground into him. “Nod if you understand how lucky you are, that I’ve decided to use you at all.”

He fervently nodded, let loose a muffled moan. She giggled and brought one hand to her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub and back arcing when he hit her _just right_ —the other hand scrambled for the gag key, and finally grasping it, she unlocked his gag and tore it out of his mouth. Her breath came in little huffs, and he knew she was close when she commanded, “Fuck me, Daddy.”

_Finally,_ he thrust up as hard and fast as his restraints allowed, savoring her cries. She slipped back into rhythm, so his thrusts came on her downstroke, and released the most glorious shout as she came, screaming his name—it drove him into overtime, dizzied him, to see her so _happy_ to have him, to know he served her perfectly and now she was rewarding him—the reward wasn’t freedom to grind into her, the real reward was to witness her pleasure because of _him_ —

He came, breathless.

Anna rested for a minute, his cock softening inside her, balancing herself with her hands on his chest, just over his fluttering heart. He smiled at the contentment on her face, underneath the lassitude, as she slowly eased herself off him, tied the condom off and tossed it in a nearby bin. She stood, arching her back, and tugged at the knotted silk around Hans’s wrists and ankles until it came apart. She rubbed and kissed his reddened skin, until she felt him completely relax.

He caught her eye, and she beamed like the cat that’d got the cream. “You were wonderful, Hans,” she said. She climbed back onto the bed and slipped between his arms. “You were great for me, and you’re worth a _lot_ more than your penis, although not to say it doesn’t factor at all, it’s just not all of you—”

He kissed her forehead. She shut up. “I understand,” he murmured, trying to shake himself from his submissive haze. She let him.

They held each other for a few minutes, until their tremors subsided and their hearts slowed. She was so warm in his arms, precious and at peace, the gentlest and most merciless Domme he’d ever had. She started drumming on his chest, then began humming a stupidly familiar song. Hans scowled as the lyrics came to him:

_Young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy…_

“Firstly,” he said, “I’m your _college_ teacher. You’re an adult, not a schoolgirl.”

“I don’t know, Daddy, I’m pretty sure how you’d react if I brought out my old Catholic school uniform…” Anna teased. He shivered at the pet name—he always did.

“And secondly,” he continued, throat dry, “you’re in charge, not me. You’re not some forbidden fruit I have to resist—”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You know that’s not what I meant—”

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking of the song because it applies to us or anything—which it totally does—I was _thinking_ about it because you, my dear professor, have some work left to do.”

He paused, confused, then remembered the pile of papers he’d left in his study. He groaned and hid his face in the pillows. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You know that’s not fair to those poor students.” She pouted up at him, then started to get up, presumably to fetch the papers—well, that wouldn’t do. He tightened his arm around her and pressed her to him, ignoring her flail.

“You’re not allowed to leave this bed until forty-five minutes into aftercare, that’s the rule.” She playfully hit him for using the contract against her. He just laughed. “I love you too much to let you out of my sight right now,” he said lowly, then winced.

“I mean—”

She just kept smiling up at him. “I love you, too. Professor.”

“Oh, that was so nice until you ruined it.”

“Wow, okay—I love you, too, _Daddy_.”

He gave up and kissed her, open-mouthed and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> After my last fic, I needed femdom Anna in my life. I really did. And now she's here, and I'm so, so happy.
> 
> Title is from Beyoncé's "Rocket". Will I ever stop naming porn after Beyoncé songs? Probably not.


End file.
